


To Nero...

by criim (yuriu)



Series: Do Not Stand at my Grave and Weep [1]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Angst, Gen, Implied Character Death, Not exactly a happy fic, Post-Canon, not intended to be shippy, though you can interpret it if you wish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 10:01:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21474166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuriu/pseuds/criim
Summary: Dear Nero,I presume you have already guessed who the sender of this package is, by the time that you read this letter. Either you figured it out by my own copy of that memento of mine, or perhaps you opened up the camera and saw my many pictures. It is I, V, and this is not a joke...
Relationships: Nero & V (Devil May Cry)
Series: Do Not Stand at my Grave and Weep [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1547908
Comments: 3
Kudos: 34





	To Nero...

**Author's Note:**

> Just as a small preface: I wrote this for my V rp blog, and I have a persistent headcanon in which V survived Mission 17, but instead of telling everyone he's alive, he keeps quiet and avoids Red Grave City. He's also still crumbling though. (You can read more detail about it over [here](https://criimsoncloud.tumblr.com/post/186505252646/criimsoncloud-v-headcanon-so-new-plotting))
> 
> It was also originally posted on [criimsoncloud](https://criimsoncloud.tumblr.com/post/189136425571/drabble-01-to-nero-a-package-arrives-upon)

  
A package arrives upon Nero’s doorsteps.

It isn’t very heavy, nor is it large, but it’s certainly filled to the brim. Wrapped in plain brown packaging, there isn’t a return address - but elegant writing decorates the front, although Nero could tell that it was written with shaky hands.

Gently, he pulls open the packaging - whoever sent this took great care in making sure it looked good, even though it was just plain paper, so Nero saw fit to treat it with the same exact care.

Numerous envelopes greets his eyes. A small, digital camera, and quite a few memory cards. Keychains and trinkets with various place names on it - the kind that one would buy at a souvenir shop. Nero dismisses this package as something that was wrongly sent to his address… but one last item catches his eye.

A black book, at the very bottom, with silver inlay on the cover; the largest inlay an elegant V…

Something that looked much too similar to the worn and faded William Blake anthology book that sat on his bedside table. A memento of a father who he had recently got to know; of a friend, that supposedly died the moment his father returned.

Nero grabs the book, and sure enough, it’s a copy of William Blake’s poetry - newer than the one on his table, but just as dogeared and creased.

Another envelope slips out from the book, and Nero freezes for just a moment, spotting the name printed on it with the same elegant letters as the package. Hesitantly, he opens up the letter, and begins to read.

_‘Dear Nero,_

_I presume you have already guessed who the sender of this package is, by the time that you read this letter. Either you figured it out by my own copy of that memento of mine, or perhaps you opened up the camera and saw my many pictures. It is I, V, and this is not a joke._

_If you’re still reading the letter past that line, then thank you - I would have tossed this out as a cruel prank, if I was in your situation, because receiving a letter from a man who was supposed to be dead, at the very least? Quite the cruel thing._

_That day, upon the Qliphoth, when I had struck Urizen - my other half - I had not anticipated at all surviving in this human form of mine. I would have either completely died, or I would have reformed as my original self - as Vergil. Those were the only two scenarios I envisioned; I did not expect that Vergil would return, and I, as the human V, would continue to exist. And yet, I woke up days after the event._

_I was confused, and I fled to find answers, fearing that I had made a mistake - that Urizen was still existing somewhere, and I never finished what I set out to do. Imagine my shock, to realize that it was Vergil who was still around, all the while I was still alive. I made the decision to continue looking for answers to why I was still here, instead of returning to Red Grave. It was a selfish decision, just like writing this and sending you all this package of mine is equally as selfish. I travelled everywhere - and halfway into my journey, I started to document my own travels. I took pictures of where I stood, of how far I went…_

_Keeping my survival from you and the others, I confess, is a cruel decision. Perhaps I should have gone to Devil May Cry to show my face, but… the past has been written, and I cannot rewrite it. And crueler still, is to write to you like this - as if we are companions and friends. I would be a terrible friend, with all these secrets I can never confess until I am upon my deathbed._

_And, to be cruel to you once more…_

_I write this all upon my second deathbed - it seems like my survival after the Qliphoth was only temporary. As I journeyed to all these places… I continued to crumble away - at a slower rate than that day, yet this body of mine still decayed fast. Do not trouble yourself; it is my fate that led me this way. The true reason I write this… was to thank you, during that brief moment I had gotten to know you. I wanted to thank you for everything - for showing me kindness, despite my aloof and secretive nature. Thank you for protecting me, when you could have easily left me to perish. Thank you for trusting me, even though I have done nothing to deserve it._

_To thank you for all this, and more, that I could never put into words… and to apologize, for burdening you with cleaning up my mess. To apologize, for hiding and all the secrecy - for never telling you anything, until the very end. You are much too kind, and I know I’ve abused and manipulated that. Words do not absolve what I’ve done. I do not expect forgiveness. I don’t even expect you to have finished reading this._

_But if you have… I wish to leave you with the little belongings I own. The camera, my recreated book, the little trinkets I collected… You may do what you wish with it. Keep it, burn it, give it to Dante and Vergil, do whatever. I have no use for it any more, not where I will be going._

_By the time this package arrives to you, I doubt I’ll still be around._

_Thank you, for everything, Nero._

_And I’m sorry._

_-V_


End file.
